


Morning Light

by Emptylester (timelordangel)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: AU, Dan has depression, Dan is an ice cream shop employee, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Multi Chapter, Phan - Freeform, Phandom - Freeform, Phil is a radio presenter, Slow Burn, going to update frequently
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-07 06:38:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7704313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelordangel/pseuds/Emptylester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan receives a radio alarm clock from his grandmother and spends months listening to the same voice wake him up every morning. When Phil Lester, a popular radio presenter and DJ, visits Manchester and shows up in the ice cream shop where 21 year old Dan works, Dan doesn't recognize his face- but he does recognize his voice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Manufactured Calm

Dan can’t breathe. He’s surely trapped underwater, adrift in a raging tide that’s tossing him to and fro like a rag doll. He’s crying with no tears and yelling with no sound; his limbs are pulled tight from both ends and he can’t even see his feet. It’s all he can do to just keep his eyes open.

“Good morning Stephen!” A voice sounds loud and clear in the middle of the ocean.

Dan wakes up with a quick intake of breath. With a couple experimental blinks he allows himself to take in the untidy calm of his bedroom and the noises from the streets below. 

“So this week is a the hottest of the year, unfortunately.” A second voice, Stephen, carries on from the radio alarm clock on Dan’s bedside table.

“It’s going to be clear and sunny though, so get some vitamin D guys!” The first voice chimes in again. Dan recognizes it as Phil Lester’s- the DJ for the morning show at the BBC. He closes his eyes and listens, his heart falling back into its normal rhythm. 

“I know my kids and wife will want to go to gardens, any plans for the weekend, Phil?” Stephen asks in a slightly-too-peppy-for-8-am voice. 

“Um,” Phil pauses just briefly enough for it to stand out in the rapid-fire discussion, “Yeah, actually! The gardens as well!”

“Maybe our families can spend time together, you’ll be more than just a voice!” Stephen laughs for too long, “Speaking of fun in the sun, here’s the new hit “Good Time” by Adam Young and Carly Rae Jepsen!” 

Music scratches out of the ancient clock radio; his grandmother had given it to him when he helped clean out her attic a few months prior. Since then, he’d spent his mornings listening to the morning show with Phil and Stephen. It is a testament to how shitty his life is that the morning show made it significantly more pleasant to be awake.

Dan pulls himself out of bed and frowns in the mirror propped against the wall. It’s one of the days he works a double at Sprinkles, a small ice cream shop near Dan’s flat. To be fair, he likes the work all right. He’s worked there part-time since the day he turned eighteen and full-time once he dropped out of university, much to his parents’ disdain. It pays the bills and occupies his time, both of which he is thankful for. 

He steps over a mountain of clothes, shoes, and trash and steps onto the cold tile floor of his bathroom. After a quick shower, thank god he’s clean, because he then puts on a shirt and trousers that he hasn’t washed in two and a half weeks. Good enough.

With a cheery red baseball cap perched on his unruly hair he glares into an empty fridge- opting for an untoasted crumpet on the way out the door. He eats it during the 20-minute walk to work, humming Muse under his breath all the while. 

Another day, another three pound-fifty an hour, he thinks to himself as he clocks in.

Twelve hours later and he's free, smelling of ice cream and dish soap.

He’s really got to stop taking a calling a cab to take him home; it’s only a twenty-minute walk. It’s pouring rain, however, and along with making ice cream shop business extremely slow it also has made the walk home miserable. 

Wet and disgruntled, Dan trudges through the door of his flat and peels off his uniform. It feels as though he’s walking on hot coals as he collapses onto the sofa in just his pants.

His mum tried to call him three times, so he gives her a quick call and mumbles through all the usual questions. “Yeah, I’m fine. No I’m not seeing anyone. Work is fine. Yes my place is clean and I’m eating.”

Most were lies. 

He wasn’t dating anyone, though. All he does is work and sit in his trashed flat, he can’t even remember the last time he enjoyed seeing a film or going out to eat- not that he really has the money for either. He’s lonely as shit, but he’d be a terrible boyfriend. 

He falls asleep a little after two am with his laptop open and a bowl of cereal perched on his bedside table, right beside the bowl from two days ago. 

The next day he works at four, so he can sleep as long as he’d like. 

“Andd now it’s time for the request portion, any songs to make your Saturday?” Phil’s voice singsongs through the radio at 8 on the dot. 

Dan groans dramatically, cursing himself for forgetting to turn off the alarm. He rolls over and hesitates before turning up the volume a bit.

A caller named Louise wants to hear “One Thing” and she wants to dedicate it to her small child, Darcy. 

“Well that’s adorable, sure thing!” Phil says genuinely before playing the song. 

Dan ignores the feeling in his gut as he drags himself out of bed and into the kitchen, taking the little radio with him. With a cup of tea in one hand and the radio in the other he goes to sit on his balcony. 

As the first signs of life emerge on the streets of Manchester there is a subtle calm in the monotony of everyday life. Dan’s tea is still too hot and he kind of wishes he were still in bed. 

“Now, we want you to tweet us at the BBC with your weekend plans, and I’ll read some of the tweets on air.” Phil instructs with a smile. 

Dan’s favourite thing about listening to Phil on the radio is that you can always tell when he’s smiling. He always sounds so genuine and thoughtful. 

“Bet he’s ugly as fuck.” Dan laughs to himself, pulling out his phone. It’s half dead because his charger is at the finicky state of only working half the time, but it’ll do. He doesn’t use his twitter that often but he shrugs and decides to play along, typing @BBCR1. “Working.” He types as he says it out loud. 

He leans back and closes his eyes, his fingers idly tapping the side of his chair. He kind of wants a cigarette, he thinks briefly. When he first rented this apartment he did so partially because there was a balcony he could smoke from, but when he dropped out of university and lost some parent funding, he found that the ten pounds a week could be better spent on food. 

His parents thanked him for caring about his wellbeing… he doesn’t, though. 

The song ends and Phil begins reading the tweets, “Debbie is going to the London eye with some American visitors, sounds like fun! Caitlyn and Darby are going to watch Netflix and avoid the heat- sounds like my kind of weekend. Dan is working! Oh, that’s upsetting.” 

Dan’s eyes flash open and he can’t help his instant smile. He shakes his head. 

“Well sounds like we’ve all got busy weekends planned, hope it’s safe and I’ll talk to you all again soon. The last song I’ll play is “Lights” by Ellie Goulding. Bye guys!” 

Dan lets the song run out before turning off the radio, tired of the scratchy sound quality. His mug of tea is mostly gone as he stands, leaving it on the table outside as he returns to his bedroom. 

With nothing else to do, he falls back onto his bed and pushes his boxers to his thighs, taking his dick in his hand. He’s mostly going for speed here, so his mind flicks to his go-to. He imagines a couple going at it, the girl on top as the guy trusts into her. 

He slowly works himself, his teeth digging into his lower lip as he bucks up into his hand. In his mind, he focuses first on the girl. She’s got short hair and snakebites and good-sized breasts; she’s whimpering and moaning as the guy shudders beneath her. She’s Dan’s type, exactly. When he’s completely hard he switches his mental focus to the man. He grabs her ass and lets out a breathy moan. He’s got a longish-hair and blue eyes, a skinny frame, and long fingers. He’s Dan’s type as well.

The girl runs her tongue over his collarbone and down his semi-muscular chest; they’re glistening with sweat and smiling, enjoying one another’s company. Dan lets himself moan a little as he imagines himself fucking into the girl, nipping at her earlobes as she rides him. Suddenly the man is there too, his cock thick between Dan’s legs and the back of his neck is being sucked and licked and-

“Ah- ah, fuck.” Dan breathes as he comes into his hand. It’s nothing fantastic but it puts him back to sleep until one pm.

He plays Guild Wars from his bed until 3:30, when he finally convinces himself to get ready for work. It’s not raining and it’s about 40 degrees out (at least feels of it) so work will be slammed, and Dan’s not feeling it.

He’s almost never feeling it. But he always goes in.

Like the street sounds of eight am, the mundane predictability of work is a manufactured calm. At least here Dan is doing what everyone expects him to do; he knows what to wear, what to say, and what to clean. Every night every piece of equipment is broken down and cleaned, the chairs are stacked, and the floor is mopped and every morning it’s all put back together. It’s an infinite cycle of existing and it’s almost nice.

Most days his coworkers feel like the only friends he has, forced to hang out with him in six-hour increments. 

It’s nearing close when the bell tied loosely around the door gives a sharp jingle, drawing Dan’s eye toward the entry way. He’s irritated for a second, as in ten minutes they lock the doors but they can’t do that until every customer is out.

The stranger looks really pale for it being July, Dan thinks as the man reads the menu board from ten feet away. He’s the only customer in the store and Dan can’t pull his eyes away, fully aware of how creepy he is being. 

“Hi, welcome to Sprinkles.” Dan says dully, trying to inject pep into his voice. 

“Hi.” The man gives a tight-mouthed smile. 

“You want to try something?” Dan leans back against the counter and gives a half-hearted wave to the array of flavours. 

“Um.” The man steps closer and stares at them. “Can I try the coffee flavour?” 

Dan freezes, overwhelmed by familiarity. Like a smell he can’t quite place from his childhood. “Of course.” He gives the man a sample.

“Mmm.” He hums after swallowing, “Can I mix that with… chocolate. In a regular cup.”

“Sure…” Dan is taken aback by the voice again. 

The stranger squints slightly, furrowing his eyebrows. “Is that a bad combination?”

“No, not at all. You just seem… familiar.” Dan shakes his head, grabbing a cub and beginning to fill it.

“Ever listened to the morning show on BBC1?” The man laughs.

“Holy shit.” Dan looks up, forgetting he was at work. His coworker glances over at him from where she’s dissembling a machine. “You’re Phil Lester.”

“Wow, you know my name.” Phil blushes and it’s extremely evident on his pale face.

“Yeah, I have this radio alarm clock and so you pretty much wake me up every morning.” Dan says before blanching, “Shit, that sounds really creepy.”

Phil is laughing, however, his tongue sneaking out the side of his mouth. “That’s so funny. Hope I’m not the worst thing to wake up to.”

“It’s nice, actually.” Dan finishes the ice cream and sticks a bright pink spoon in it. “So what are you doing in Manchester, assuming you don’t commute four hours to work?”

“Visiting my family, I’m from Manchester.” 

“Man, you abandoned your family to get ice cream. Harsh.” Dan laughs.

“It’s just my parents and they’re asleep, my train got in quite late. I left for food and forgot that unlike London, most things close here.” Phil shrugs.

Phil pulls out his wallet and Dan just shakes his head, “We’re gonna toss the rest of this in about five minutes, you’re fine. Call it the celebrity discount.”

Dan could hypothetically get in trouble for this, but he’d foot the three fifty bill. 

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Sorry you have to eat ice cream for dinner.” Dan smirks. Phil's voice is so much nicer in person, instead of scratching through his radio. It's much smoother and deeper than Dan thought, it's a good radio voice. It's a good voice in general.

“It’s okay, it’s kind of fun.”

“Don’t tell your kids that.” 

“I don’t have kids, thankfully.” Phil takes a bite of his ice cream. “I’m living the wild bachelor life of eating ice cream at eleven pm.”

“Same, except I always have to return to this place.” Dan laughs, but it’s lacking humour. 

“I guess I should get out, if you’re about to close. Thanks-,” Phil looks for a name tag but his eyes are met with nothing, “What’s your name?”

“Dan.” Dan smiles, pushing his fringe out of his eyes. 

“Thanks Dan. Maybe I’ll give you a shout out when I return to London.” Phil tries to wink and ends up pointedly blinking at Dan. 

“You’ll forget me before you get home.” Dan rolls his eyes playfully, “Have a good night, Phil.”

Dan follows a few minutes after Phil walks out and locks the doors, stacking the chairs on his way back. 

“You know him?” His co-worker Cat asks. 

“He’s actually a radio presenter, I recognized his voice.” 

“Oh. I thought he was somebody cool.” Cat frowns, “Never mind.”

Dan slips into the routine of closing and plays Muse over the stereo system. He wastes the five pounds he got in tips bumming a ride home and before he knows it he’s back in bed and fighting with his phone charger. 

When his alarm goes off the next morning, it’s not Phil. 

Dan shuts it off and rolls over, not ready to face the world just yet.


	2. Soft and Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while, today was my only day off this week from my job at an ice cream shop haha. Enjoy!

Meeting a radio host is the highlight of Dan’s week. This isn’t because it was all that exciting, really, but more so because Dan leads a very boring life. He spends his day off work at home playing video games in his pants, a little voice in the back of his mind begging him to go outside or do something, anything at all. He ignores it.

The rest of the week, he waits. He fiddles his thumbs and tries to talk to his coworkers more; he buys lunch during his break and eats it outside. He gives the universe as many chances as possible to let something more exciting happen in his dull existence, but it is quiet. 

Tuesday night, he’s closing again. 

The familiar bell clinks on the door at five minutes to close and this time there are three other customers drunkenly ordering at the counter. Dan is patient and calm with the strangers; he’s too tired to express annoyance. When he looks up at the sound of the bell, he gets a little lightheaded. 

Acting like he doesn’t notice, he continues scooping ice cream for the drunks and hurriedly rings them up on the old register, jabbing at the sticky “extra toppings” button. 

“Thank you, have a … safe night.” Dan laughs before finally turning to the line. There’s one person, standing there in a button down and black skinny jeans with jet-black hair and a smile like no other. 

“You know, I have the right to refuse service to anyone.” Dan drawls as he smirks, locking eye contact with Phil. 

Phil laughs softly and steps up to the counter, “Sorry I’m so late.”

“You say that like we had plans.” Dan shoves his hands in his pockets. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, I’m about to head back to London and I thought I’d get some of this killer ice cream before I leave.” Phil glances at the glass freezer nonchalantly. 

“Right, sure.” Dan says, “But this time you have to take my recommendation.” 

“Um.” Phil says, and looks sincerely distressed.

“I was joking.” Dan clarifies.

“Right! Right. What is your suggestion?” Phil nervously twists his hands together.

“Passion fruit, mixed with coconut.” Dan takes a sample cup and half and half’s it. 

Phil takes it tentatively, eating it like fine caviar. 

“What do you think?” 

“It’s good! Very tropical.” Phil gently sets down the half-eaten sample. “I think I’m just going to go for coffee.”

“No chocolate mixed?” Dan pretends to frown.

“I can’t believe you remembered that.” Phil shakes his head.

“It’s been a slow week.” Dan glances outside, where rain is softly hitting the pavement. 

For a second they both stare out the door at the street lamps reflecting off the puddles of water forming on the street. It’s soft and the drunks have left, leaving Phil and Dan alone in the tiny shop. 

“Uh, sorry. Yeah just coffee.” Phil draws his attention back to the counter. 

“I doubt I should even bother asking for toppings, but we’ve got loads!” 

“No thank you.” Phil laughs, embarrassed, as he takes out his wallet. 

“Two fifty, and a tour of the BBC is your total.” Dan is joking, but Phil’s eyes widen slightly.

“I could do that, for you.” Phil says.

“I was joking mate.” Dan pushes back his hair. 

“It’d be no problem, here.” Phil digs a business card out of his galaxy book bag. 

“Seriously? That’d be so cool.” Dan grins across the counter.

“Just, call this number whenever you’re in London and I’ll hook you up.” Phil smiles back. 

They exchange the ice cream for a business card with Phil’s name on it and Dan tucks it into his own wallet. 

“Have a safe trip back.” Is all Dan can think to say as Phil begins to leave. 

“Thanks, hope you can make it down sometime.” Phil gives a small wave and exits into the rain, the last clink of the bell on the door resonating before falling into a silence that seems to engulf the space. Closing down the shop has never been more boring. 

When Dan falls into bed that night, he sighs deeply and opens his laptop. On a whim he types in “trains from Manchester to London” and waits for his shitty Internet to cough up a response. 

It’s about 100 GBP but he’s got a little money and he hasn’t done anything fun for what seems like years now. 

So with a spark of adventure in his heart, he buys a train ticket and does something he hasn’t done in almost a year- requests time off work. It’s only three days, but it feels like a bad person.

He expects some animosity when he tells his boss, a stout woman in her 40’s who wears polo shirts and carries around a clipboard constantly, but she shrugs and flips a couple pages on her clipboard and crosses something out. 

“So that’s it?” Dan asks, waiting for a reply.

“Do you think cotton candy and butter pecan would be good together?” She taps her pen to her chin. 

“Um, not really.” Dan presses his lips into a tight line. “In case you’re wondering, I’m going to London for a tour of the BBC.”

“What?” She turns back to him like in the past five seconds she’s forgotten that he’s even here.

“That’s why I’m requesting off.” Dan murmurs. 

“Good for you, Dan. Hope it’s a nice break.” She says before beginning to mumble different flavours and wanders off towards the back. 

He gives himself a week and a half before he leaves, choosing next Thursday. The trains won’t be that crowded, he’ll tour the BBC on Friday, and spend Saturday exploring London. The perfect mini holiday.

He calls his mum that afternoon and she seems excited to hear from him. Before she can even start her questioning, he tells her about his adventure to London for a tour of the BBC.

“How can you afford that right now?” His mum worries into the phone.

Dan about rolls his eyes. “It’s not that expensive and I have money, I work all the time.” 

“Be safe, okay? I know you’re going to choose some horrid hotel so your father and I will book you a nice one, okay dear? We never did get you anything for your birthday.”

“Wow, that’d be really nice.” Dan thinks his mother is probably just happy to be hearing he’s doing something at all. 

They talk for a bit longer until Dan is too hungry to pretend to be interested in his grandfather’s possible stomach ulcer. When the line goes dead he wanders into the kitchen and actually takes a look around his flat. 

After making a drink he clears his throat and types in the number on Phil’s business card. It rings three times before an a cheery female voice answers. 

“Hello, you’ve reached the BBC Radio One office, how may I assist you?” 

“Uh, hi. Can I speak to Phil- Phil Lester?” Dan manages.

“Mr. Lester is in a meeting, can I take a message?” 

“Yeah, my name is Dan Howell and he said to call him if I was going to be in London soon, and I am.” 

“Alright Mr. Howell, I’ll pass that right along. Have a nice day!” 

The call is dropped with a deafening silence at the other end of the line; it leaves Dan disappointed and feeling foolish. Expecting Phil to answer the phone was stupid, he thinks to himself. 

The days are so long in the middle of August that Dan often eats Dinner on his balcony as he watches the sun set. The light falls over the city and seems to illuminate every window and the tops of cars- sending sunlight in every direction before the world goes dark. 

He finds himself musing about his trip to the city and he feels excitement for the first time in forever. He’s excited to see the city and Phil, but mostly he just wants a change of scenery for a few days. Maybe his hands will stop smelling of caramel. 

His phone buzzing against this thigh interrupts his thoughts. Dan digs the phone out from his too-tight jeans and frowns at the unknown number, pressing ‘answer’. 

“Hello, this is Dan.” 

“Dan! Hi, it’s Phil, from the BBC.” 

“Phil!” Dan’s face breaks out into a grin.

“Sorry I missed your call earlier, and sorry it’s so late now.” Phil laughs into the line, “I heard you’re coming to London?” 

“Yeah! I have time off work and though it would be a fun thing to do.” Dan half-lies.

“Cool! Well I promised you a tour, so a tour you shall get. What day will you be here?” Phil asks. 

“Next Thursday I’ll travel, and then Friday and Saturday I’ll be in town.” 

“Friday it is, then. I’ll let them know.” Phil sounds happy, but Dan can tell he’s tired.

“I appreciate it, thanks.” Dan leans over the railing on his balcony and his heart jolts a little. Whether it is from the height or something else, he’s not sure.

“No worries. Where are you staying?” 

“My mum said she’d get me a nice hotel as a late birthday present, so I’ll let you know.” Dan smiles, pressing the knuckle on his left hand index finger to his lips.

“Okay, I’ll see you then!” Phil waits for Dan to say bye before hanging up and leaving Dan alone once again. 

The week and a half drags on forever, but eventually Dan is getting ready to leave for the city in the morning. He takes a long shower, letting the blistering water run down his back as he works shampoo into his hair. It’s as if he’s trying to work the smell of sugar and cream out of his skin; if it's even possible to rid himself of the persistent red and blue dye under his finger nails. He emerges thirty minutes later with red skin and an anxious murmur in his heart.

The next morning finds Dan at the train station with nothing more than a backpack and a hoodie- despite the temperature. He people watches for a half and hour while waiting and he can’t help but notice all the happy families and couples shuffling by, smiling even in the heat of summer in a train station. Dan can’t remember the last time he truly smiled.

It’s not that long of a journey and Dan makes it just fine, stumbling out half-asleep with his phone in his hand. He takes a taxi to his hotel, a semi-nice place with a tiny bedroom and attached bathroom. It’s about five pm when Dan decides to venture out for food.

“Where should I eat?” He asks Siri. 

“Searching for restaurants near you. I found twenty-five restaurants within walking distance.”

Dan scrolls through the lists, pausing on a café. He shrugs and puts on shoes, heading out the door. 

The sun is at that uncomfortable level of not being high in the sky while also not setting yet, so it’s hovering directly at eye level. He squints into the sun as he lets Google Maps boss him around. 

“What can I get for you?” The waitress taps on her order sheet.

“Uh, tea and the strawberry salad please.” Dan mumbles, “Sorry, visiting here.”

The waitress looks at him like that was a stupid thing to say; it’s London, most people are visiting. He vaguely wishes he had invited Phil to come to dinner with him. There would be a chance that Phil already had plans or would lie and back out, but there was also a chance he would have said yes. 

Regardless, he would see Phil tomorrow. 

The café is good, despite the disappointing service. He inhales the croissant that comes with his salad; the buttery flakes of pastry all but dissolve in his mouth. It’s peaceful and quiet inside the restaurant as he watches the sun grow too heavy to linger at midpoint and finally drop below the horizon. 

The walk to the hotel is quiet and Dan hides behind his coat, exchanging quick glances with every passerby. He subconsciously searches for a familiar face, anyone he could connect with in a sea of people. 

The streets are strangely cold and all he wants is to be back at his apartment in Manchester; to be consumed by his duvet and his thoughts.   
His hotel room is dark and he barely hits the crisp sheets of his bed before he’s out light a light, his phone at twenty percent on the bedside table. 

“Mmm.” Dan mumbles. 

“Room service!” A voice calls again.

Dan’s eyes flicker open and he squints, pushing himself up. 

The door begins to open and a short Hispanic woman walks in. She immediately sees Dan and her eyes widen behind thick glasses. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” She backs out of the room and leaves Dan in a confused silence. 

“Fuck.” Dan scrambles for his phone, only to find that it’s dead. “Shit, fuck.”

The clock on the tiny microwave says it’s 9:30. Dan scrambles out of bed, rips off his t-shirt, flings open the bathroom door and puts up a fight with the shower knob. 

He has thirty minutes to look presentable and get to the BBC office… that happens to be a twenty-minute walk from his hotel. He can’t waste any time as he quickly showers and towel-dries his hair while pulling on skinny jeans and his favourite button-down moth shirt. 

With barely twenty-two minutes to spare, he grabs his bag and then begins his speed walk to the office. Despite his rough morning, he’s grinning as he takes in London during the day. 

It’s gorgeous, in a bustling, NYC way. Everyone has somewhere to go, or someone to see; everyone is part of an intricate system of buses and trains and crosswalks but also entirely in a world of their own. Dan barely notices twenty minutes has passed as he comes up on the giant Broadcasting House. 

He wants to see Phil, honestly. They hadn’t spoken much in the past two weeks, especially because Dan doesn’t even have Phil’s number. They’re not really friends, Dan reminds himself. Dan still misses him, despite hearing his voice almost every morning. 

“Good morning, how can I help you?” A woman at the front desk glances up at him through thick frames.

“I’m Dan Howell, here for a backstage tour.” Dan scratches the back of his neck.

“Oh, yes. I was told to be expecting you.” The woman perks up and picks up her phone, dialing an extension. “Hi Kathy, Dan Howell is here for you.” 

Dan doesn’t know who Kathy is, or why the woman didn’t call Phil. The excitement turns to anxiety and he feels his chest grow tight.

Kathy returns a few moments later and he somehow knows it’s her because she’s looking at him with a giant smile reserved for seeming genuine to complete strangers. 

“Hi, Dan?”

“Hi.” Dan smiles back, closed-lips.

“Mr. Lester said I’d have the pleasure of showing you around. Right this way!” Kathy is young, and far too peppy. Despite being around the same age, Dan feels like he’s decades older. She peels off a visitor’s badge and sticks it to Dan’s shirt.

“Okay, thank you.” Dan wants to hide. He feels ridiculous, because it hits him like a load of bricks that he didn’t really care about this tour at all. In the bright lights of the lobby and the dimmer, softer lights of the hallways Kathy drags him through Dan is only looking around for familiar blue eyes.

He nods and smiles and even has a decent time, but his stomach aches and he doesn’t care, not really. He wants to hear Phil get excited about the recording studio and the Live Lounge, he wants to see Phil’s eyes light up like the studio lights Kathy flicks on for him.

It isn’t until he gets to Phil’s studio that he cares. And it’s not even the fact that Phil is behind one of the doors, it’s just a cool studio. There are plants along the back wall behind glass doors, and letters and drawings are taped to the wall. It’s the first unique recording studio he’s seen out of a dozen.

“This is where they record the Morning Show. Phil and Stephen do other things in the studio, but this is their main gig. If Phil’s in, I’m sure he’d like to say hi!”

“I’d like that!” Dan says, his eyes lighting up. 

Kathy knocks on Phil’s office door and there’s no response, to Dan’s dismay. 

“Oh, too bad.” Kathy shrugs, unaware of Dan’s disappointment. “Right then way, then.”

Dan takes in Phil's studio before they head out into a few more rooms. 

“This is where we’re going to do the new segment, Internet Takeover. It’s a few months in the making, but it’s highly anticipated.” After a few more hallways and doors, they’re back out in the lobby again.

“Did you have fun?” Kathy asks brightly.

“Yeah, it was great! Thank you.” Dan is sincere, but his words fall a bit flat. 

“Alright, I hope you have a great day. Help yourself to some cookies on your way out.”

Kathy leaves and Dan walks over to the small table of cookies in the lobby. Because he woke up late this morning, he hadn’t eaten breakfast. Not that he normally eats breakfast… or lunch… or really any stable meal at all. Most days he eats ice cream samples and whatever he can find for dinner. 

He sinks his teeth into a cookie and takes the time to enjoy it, and the rare air conditioning in the lobby. 

“Dan!” A voice behind him calls and he spins around, cookie still half in his mouth and half in his hand.

Despite looking ridiculous, Dan grins, trying to keep his mouth closed. He hurriedly swallows as Phil laughs. 

“Phil!” Dan says back, setting the half of the cookie down on a napkin. 

“I was afraid I’d missed you.” Phil takes the half of the cookie and shoves it in his mouth without a thought. 

Dan cocks his head but breaks out into a grin.

“How was the tour?” Phil talks through the cookie. 

He’s wearing a suit and Dan realizes how different he looks from the ten pm travelled Phil he’d met in the ice cream shop. 

“It was amazing.” Dan says, and he’s not really talking about the tour. “I really appreciate it.” 

“No worries, glad you could make it down.” Phil finishes Dan’s cookie and checks his watch. “Hey, would you want to get coffee when I get off?” 

Dan’s taken aback. “Sure, sounds good. I am in London all day and tomorrow.” 

“Great! Want to meet here at five?” Phil is so confident here, Dan notices. The Phil he met at his work was reserved and quiet, this Phil was confident and brave. 

“Sounds perfect.” Dan wishes he could just go right now. Maybe he could say that. “Um.”

“What?” Phil smirks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Could we leave now?” Dan’s never said what he means in his entire 21 years of life, but something about Phil makes him never want to shut up.

“Um.” Phil laughs, glancing back. “I guess they wouldn’t miss me too much.”

Dan can’t help the smile that reaches his eyes and radiates through his body.

“Then let’s go. I’ll return you.” 

“Actually, I’m feeling ill suddenly. I’ll let them know I need to take the afternoon off.” Phil winks, returning to the depths of the Broadcasting Building.

Dan waits for Phil by the cookie table, watching the dozens of people enter and leave, most on their lunch breaks. Some people look stressed and frazzled; others look content and peaceful in bright colours bathed in the warm light filtering in through the skylights. It’s the manufactured calm of routine all over again, walking past him in dress shoes and high heels.

Phil almost runs past him, a briefcase slung over his shoulder, and grabs Dan’s hand briefly- tugging him towards the door. “Let’s go.” He whispers.

They walk quickly until they’re outside the building and down a block. 

“I was sneaking out.” Phil laughs, “Not that I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving- I told the nice boss.” 

“Ohh, is there is mean boss?” Dan raises and eyebrow as they walk down the pavement.

“Not mean so much as… strict.” Phil explains, “He’s a bit of an ass, but it’s mostly to keep up appearances. He won’t care that I’m gone for one day, but he wouldn’t let me go if I asked.”

“Where are we going?” Dan wonders as the wind ruffles through his hair, left naturally curly in the haste of his morning. 

“To my favorite café.” Phil responds without hesitation. 

“Ah, I’m worthy of the favorite.” 

“Of course. It’s a bit of a hole-in-the-wall.” 

“Where?” Dan glances at Phil.

“Two blocks down. Ericka always works on Fridays, and she makes the best caramel macchiato.” 

“That is my favourite.” Dan smiles.

They arrive and the bell tied to the door makes Dan think of work for a brief second. 

“Hi, Ericka.” Phil fixes his fringe as they enter.

“Hi Phil!” A young woman with red hair glances back from the espresso machine, grinning at Phil. She wipes her hands on a cloth and walks to the register. “Black coffee today or something sweeter?”

“I’m playing hooky today with my friend Dan, so we’ll both splurge.” Phil glances back at Dan with wide, playful eyes. “Double caramels, please.” 

Ericka grins and keys it into the register, taking Phil’s card. “I’ve not seen him before.”

“I’m from Manchester, just visiting.” Dan corrects, before turning to Phil. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“Of course.” Phil smiles sheepishly. “Hope you like it.”

“I’m sure it will be great.” Dan takes his as Ericka returns with them both, thanking her.

“Enjoy boys!” She winks before turning to the next customer.

They sit at a table in the corner and Phil takes a sip of his drink, despite how piping hot they both are. Foam clings to his lips as he looks back up at Dan. 

“It’s too hot.” Dan crinkles his nose. 

“Weak.” Phil takes another sip of his to prove a point.

“Shush.” Dan tries to take a sip but flinches when his lips touch the foam.

The both have sugary foam on their faces as they burst into laughter. The noon light reflects off the windows and sends sparkles into Phil’s eyes. Dan’s absorb the light and become a warm caramel colour, Dan knows this happens but he can almost see his reflection in Phil’s eyes as they laugh. 

They’re half way done with their drinks (Phil’s more like a three quarters through) when Phil gets a call.

“Excuse me,” He says to Dan before answering, “Hey Mr. Warren, I’m not in the office. Okay. No, that’s fine, I can get that done before five. Alright. No, not until Tuesday. Alright, I’ll fax it over. Bye.”

Phil sighs as he hangs up the phone, “I need to finish an invoice before five, the district manager needs it tonight. He’s in Leeds so I thought I could get away with finishing it Monday.”

Dan frowns. “Oh, that sucks.”

“Yeah, but I can hang out a few more minutes.” Phil smiles softly, apologetically. 

“Today was fun. A nice change of pace.” Dan fiddles with his drink.

“Maybe tomorrow I could show you around a museum or something, while you’re here.” Phil suggests, raising his eyebrows.

“That sounds like a lot of fun, sure.” Dan takes a hefty sip of his macchiato. 

“Okay, I’m excited.” Phil finishes his drink off. “I should head back now, but thanks for getting coffee with me. I’ll come get you at eleven tomorrow, send me your address?”

Dan just smiles fondly, nods, and glances out the door.

“Can you make it back to your hotel alright?” Phil asks as he stands, gathering his briefcase. 

“Yeah, it’s close.” Dan stands, pushing in his chair. He doesn’t want this to end, he doesn’t want to walk back alone and be bored until the next morning. It’s been so long since he’s had a real friend who actually wants to hang out with him.

“Great, be safe walking back.” Phil departs with a smile, the bell on the door giving a sharp clank.

Dan is alone, but this time he’s filled with something warm and soft, like light is filling him and seeping out of his skin.

At least he gets to see Phil tomorrow.


End file.
